Max lived with Joe and Sylvia now, and Preacher had closed off the second-floor. As for Ginny’s flowers on the roof, Louisa and Debbie took turns tending to them as best they could.
Debbie entered the living room—a large space lined with couches and chairs in a variety of sizes and colors. Mismatched rugs covered the in-between areas. Large, colorful pop art prints from the 1950s and 1960s hung on nearly every wall. Near the back stairwell a bar area had been set up, and on the other side of the room sat a wall-to-wall entertainment center.
Today Louisa and Anne were huddled together at the bar, while Whiskey Jim was stretched out over one of the sofas, snoring loudly.Some Girlsby the Rolling Stones was buzzing softly through the speakers while a Silver Demon named Bullet browsed the records.
“What’s your pleasure today, Debbie darling?” Bullet called out. “We got Queen, we got the Doobie Brothers… we got some Aerosmith…”
“Blondie,” she replied with a smile. “Always Blondie.”
He flashed her a gleaming white grin that accentuated his dark brown skin. “’Course,” he drawled, “What was I thinkin’? I got your Blondie comin’ right up, little mama.”
Debbie headed for the bar and took a much-needed seat on one of the stools. Although her pregnant stomach was still measuring relatively small and had yet to become a bother, she was tired and sore almost all the time.
“Aw, honey,” Anne cooed. “You look exhausted. How’re ya feelin’?”
She shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess. Just wish Preacher was back.”
Sighing, Louisa frowned down at the drink in her hand. “They were supposed to be back days ago.”
“Preacher’ll be back soon, don’t you worry, honey.” Anne wrapped an arm around Louisa’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “Yours too, baby doll.
“I envy you both, though, you know?” Smiling mischievously, Anne tucked her long blonde hair behind her ears and leaned over the bar. “Jim’s gettin’ on in years, so he doesn’t go riding as much. But when he did…” Anne’s smile turned positively wicked. “Oh honey, the welcome home sex was some of the best I’ve ever had.”
Debbie and Louisa glanced to where Jim was still snoring on the sofa and started giggling. “Gross,” Louisa mouthed to Debbie and Debbie nodded vigorously in agreement.
“I saw that!” Anne snapped. “And all I gotta say is don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”
“Speaking of gross…” Louisa’s eyes darted suspiciously around the room, and she lowered her voice. “Did Frank leave?”
Debbie nodded. “A few minutes ago.”
Brows up, Louisa looked at Anne. “Did you get a load of Maria wearing that big ol’ neck scarf, lookin’ like Mary Tyler Moore?”
“Mmhmm, sure did.”
“He’s hitting her again. I just know it.”
Anne snorted. “Who are you kidding? He didn’t ever stop.”
“Hitting her?” Debbie repeated dumbly, her gaze darting between the two women. “Frank hits Maria?”
Louisa bobbed her head dramatically up and down. “Oh my God, Debbie, it’s so obvious. This one time last year she wore sunglasses all through dinner. Like we wouldn’t know what she was hiding underneath.”
Anne nudged Louisa. “And remember when I saw the bruises on her arm?” Facing Debbie, Anne said, “I accidentally walked in on her in the bathroom. And I’m talkin’, these weren’t no small bruises. Her whole arm was black and blue.”
Debbie’s hand went to her stomach. Thinking of Maria, how quiet she was, and the way she always shied away from Frank’s touch, made Debbie feel sick. “Does Preacher know?”
Anne shot her a disbelieving look. “Most men are oblivious to things like that. ‘Sides, it ain’t any of our business. It’stheirmarriage.”
Louisa nodded in agreement, and Debbie gaped at them both.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before—the painful secrets Maria was carrying around. Especially when she knew full well the burden of carrying around painful secrets. Debbie might have left the source of her pain on the other side of the country, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still with her. It would always be with her.
“Someone should tell Preacher,” she insisted.
“Honey, you know those two have been friends since forever, right? You tell Preacher and he says somethin’ to Frank and Frank gets angry, and then who do you think gets the short end of the stick, hmm?” Lips pursed and twisted, Anne regarded Debbie.
Debbie recalled the one and only time she had tried to tell her mother what was happening to her. It hadn’t gone well, and things had only gotten worse for her.
